


The Nature of Pleasure

by TelepathJeneral



Series: SigMoira Historical AU [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Historical AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-24 18:08:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22002226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TelepathJeneral/pseuds/TelepathJeneral
Summary: Moira has managed to finally get Siebren alone, but her difficulties are not over yet.
Relationships: Moira O'Deorain/Sigma | Siebren de Kuiper
Series: SigMoira Historical AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1583788
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

The room had grown slightly darker, just enough that every shadow was a touch deeper than usual, but Moira paid little attention. She’d gotten them here through a combination of bold-faced cheek and sheer wile, and now she was seated on a single bed with the hands of a very attentive man resting on her hips.

Well, in fairness, she was seated on that man’s lap.  _ He  _ was the one seated on the bed.

Since meeting Doctor de Kuiper, Moira had noted the deftness of his hands. He was strong and able, with the full flush of an energetic youth, and yet that mind held the complexity of constellations and galaxies. He was intense, all too intense, and yet he was completely serious about his interest in her. His  _ interest _ . Not his disgust, or his disregard: his  _ interest _ .

It didn’t much matter what they were. Not now, after so many weeks of worrying about it. She’d lived in the clinic and tended to the books and simply  _ lived _ in his life for so long, and now he was cradling her, stroking her body as he might do a cat or a small child. Like she was  _ delicate _ . And her experience in this area--in positive male attention--was so limited, she hadn’t realized that a man’s hands could adjust her so carefully. Keeping her on his lap, and yet always tracing those small movements, edging closer to the edge of her blouse and seeking the warmth of her skin.

“Siebren.” Her voice wasn’t her own: it had become this low, sultry thing, richer than her usual speaking voice. It shocked her, and she shuddered as his grip tightened. “ _ Siebren _ . How do you--what should I...do?”

Siebren shook beneath her, and it was only when he pulled away that she realized he was laughing. “Moira, asking a question? Can this be?”

Moira frowned, pushing against his chest. “The world is not as simple as you are, Doctor de Kuiper--”

“No, no. I apologize.” Siebren hid against her, inhaling deep against her shoulder. “What would you like to do?”

Moira could feel a dark heat creeping up her neck, her palms flush with the tensing and pricking of invisible needles. He was asking her, without restraint, and she...couldn’t think. What did she want to do? What was meant to happen?

She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Instead, she sat gaping like a fish, her hands moving of their own volition to press against Siebren’s shoulders again. Slowly, incrementally, she pushed him down, lifting herself higher in order to face him properly and align her hips with his. This man, clad in doctor’s whites and travelling gear and nicely trimmed shirts that certainly did not belong in this ridiculous country, with his nose and features so sharply honed--this man, in the flesh before her, bathing himself in her attention.

“Siebren.” She finally said, a soft, frightened sound, lost in the rush of warmth around her. Siebren’s grip tightened anew, adjusting to her new position, and Moira leaned forward to fall into his embrace as he wrapped his arms fully around her. 

Frustrated with her own inability to  _ think _ , Moira pushed her head down to find his lips again, forcing herself to his face in order to kiss him roughly, sloppily. A muffled noise of surprise made her tense, but Siebren lay back slowly in order to allow her greater access, her weight keeping her fixed atop him. Her skirts had risen significantly over the past few minutes, and she could feel them tangling between their bodies. She had always disliked the amount of fabric around her legs, but now they were a total irritant, increasing her annoyance. Moira pulled back, hissing softly in her anger, and she tumbled to the side as she began to undo her skirt ties. 

“Moira.” Siebren’s voice tried to soothe, his hands never leaving her for long. She could feel the heat and confusion clouding her head, blurring her thoughts into a haze, and she wanted to slap his hands away. She wanted to  _ think _ . 

And yet…

And yet his hands were warm, and strong, and gentle. 

“Kiss me.” She ordered, reaching up again to grab onto Siebren’s shirt. Now, having tumbled to the side, Moira found herself pressed beneath Siebren’s weight, his lips eagerly returning to hers as his hands pushed away the remaining skirts and finally slid beneath the cotton of her blouse. The pressure on her skin, the pressure now between her legs, both made Moira groan against him, rolling her hips up to maintain the slow build. 

Again, Siebren moved easily down to her neck, kissing carefully and sucking gently on the skin. His hands seemed to be everywhere, pushing up her blouse and pulling away her petticoat, but Moira was able to start her own work by tugging on his collar and slipping apart each button on his shirt, one at a time. She could not tell when they were finally able to lay skin-to-skin, the heat shared between them, but she knew that it was only a partial effort with the remaining pieces of fabric in the way. 

“Siebren.” She said at last, pushing herself up on both hands. Siebren looked up at her, his eyes wide with surprise and interest. Already breathless, Moira smiled to see him, bracing herself for her next words. “I know what I want now.”

“Well, yes.” Siebren paused to squeeze her hips, his legs dangling off the bed. “I hope it’s something I can provide?”

“I do hope so.” Moira nodded, lifting a hand to brush back Siebren’s hair. She remembered the books, the hours spent at the desk, poring over diagrams and Latin labels. She considered his hands, and his care and attention. 

“Use your hands more, Siebren.” She couldn’t help the flush that rose to her cheeks, but she pushed on, the words themselves making her legs rubbery. “Get the rest of  _ this _ out of the way and then...we can get to business.”

Again, Siebren smiled up at her, and he laughed aloud as he lifted himself higher on the bed. It was already a disheveled mess, their clothing more than merely wrinkled, but Siebren moved to lift her up to the headboard, letting Moira rest against the pillows and pushing aside the fabric that had begun bunching around her legs and breasts. Piece by piece, he removed the offending articles, replacing the fabric with his lips even as Moira shivered in the rush of air. 

“Wait.” Moira reached up, putting a hand on Siebren’s shoulder again as he kissed the top of her breastbone. “You, too. Your shirt. And--Trousers.” 

Pressed against her once more, an arm supporting himself on the bed beneath them, Siebren chuckled. “You’re the more interesting one, like this.”

“But I want to see  _ you _ .” Moira hummed, her legs lifting to squeeze Siebren’s pelvis. “You’re so... _ warm _ .”

“And observant! Oh, I am a lucky man.” Siebren tutted to himself, ducking beneath her field of view to trace her sternum. Moira forced herself to exhale, relaxing into the sensation, lifting her hands to rest them atop Siebren’s head as he moved between her breasts. As she’d asked, he was fervently moving his hands to continue their work, pressing into her stomach and along her waist. It was a curious moment, Moira found, with Siebren working very hard to consume as much of her as possible and yet unable to do everything at once. And yet--she was unsure of her role. The aftermath of all this, the birthing or the miscarrying or the bearing of children,  _ that _ she knew about. The path to get there was less clear.

“Siebren?” She suddenly blurted, gripping his head more tightly. “Have you done this? This, that is, do you--” His eyes, sharp and blue now with his focus, interrupted her, and she tried to shrink back against the pillows. 

“This?” He finally said, adjusting his position to slip his hands beneath her. “Mm. Yes, I have. I’m...sorry, Moira, I should have--”

“Don’t--Don’t, um, don’t say anything.” She hurried to silence him, cursing her own impulsivity. Without his shirt, his clothing in this disarray, it was good to simply watch, and yet it was all too  _ unknown _ . “Can you finish preparing? Yourself, that is?”

Siebren hesitated, a layer of confusion clouding the eager intensity he’d had before. It was an odd moment before he began to move, sitting back to escape Moira’s grip and finish removing his clothing. Moira sat up to follow, her interest surmounting her uncertainty, and tried to make sense of the possibilities that remained before her. 

She had seen the anatomy books, of course. Siebren’s books. She hadn’t studied those pages with him, so any of the Latin markings had remained a mystery to her, but she’d seen the sketches. The male anatomy was obvious enough, particularly to anyone within walking distance of a sheep farm. But Siebren’s movements were slow, as careful as he’d been with her, and Moira tried not to stare as he finally shed his trousers and sat on the edge of the bed, looking back to her carefully. Finally, she looked up to his eyes, flushing darkly to feel him watching her.

“I.” She tried to begin, about to sit back. “I just--”

Without saying a word, Siebren reached out to grab her wrist, pulling her forward again to grasp her in both arms. Fueled by the momentum, Moira grabbed for his face, pressing her lips to his with renewed fervor. This time, it seemed more straightforward, somehow--his skin against hers, hands and arms tangling anew, his hand slipping between her legs to separate the soft folds of her cleft. Within moments, she could feel the distinct movements of his fingers, tiny twitches that made her start with each movement. Her nails dug into his shoulders, pulling him with her as she edged backwards again, but this time she was able to feel the movement of his legs as he lowered himself above her.

“Sorry.” She whispered, shivering as she tried not to jerk away. His kisses were perfect, messy and uncoordinated even as she tried to keep track of them, but the movement of their legs kept making her jump. Siebren did not pause, mouthing again to her chin, but lifted his head to nuzzle into her hair.

“Stop apologizing.” His words did not chide, but Moira wanted to protest anyway, to explain herself. Even as she tried to form the words, however, Siebren pressed his hips forward, meeting the slick softness of her labia with the head of his cock. The steady pressure made her every nerve tense, muscles clenching in anticipation even as he slid into her.

“Siebren.” She could feel herself breathing shallow and tight, as if undergoing some  _ procedure _ instead of sharing a bed with the man she--she  _ loved _ , but Siebren did not stop kissing her. Or touching her. No, his hands were still busy, cupping her breasts, circling the tips, stroking her abdomen. 

“You must relax.” He spoke softly, right into her ear, the warmth of his breath making her hair stand on edge all over again. Moira clung to him, digging into him with her nails, her hips liquid and soft with the steady movement of his body. “Don’t close your eyes. Look--” Again he moved, lifting himself up, forcing a few inches of separation between their chests as he pressed his lips to her forehead.

Moira was certain she had no more blood left in her body, after it had all been spent flushing her cheeks, but she tucked herself beneath him and allowed her gaze to roam. The muscles of his chest she’d admired, the dusting of hair that grew thicker near his waist, then the angles of bones where his pelvis was visible--

And their legs, just visible now in the dimmed light, his hips riding gently between hers. She tried to make sense of the sensations coupled with the motion she could make out, even as Siebren began to increase their pace. Gripping his upper arms, Moira tried lifting her hips to meet him, gasping as the change in position drew him in deeper,  _ differently _ . She’d known about the pieces she could reach outside of her body, the softer skin hidden between her folds, but this, this was something else: heat, and movement, and the roll of hips into her. Moira reached up for him, kissing at his collarbone and neck, trying once more to find words to explain herself even as the adrenaline threatened to overwhelm her.

She may have said something; she couldn’t be certain. What she knew was that she was trapped again in a rush of sensation, hiding in Siebren as he thrust into her. Her hips lifted, pressing her to him, and she gasped for breath as sparks ran the length of her spine. It was longer than she’d realized, several seconds of pulsing and shuddering as her muscles pulled her through orgasm. She wondered, briefly, if she’d lost consciousness, but further changes informed her that she was still aware of her surroundings. Siebren was moving again, pulling away this time, and Moira whined loudly as she tried to grab for him again. Despite her movement, however, Siebren escaped her grip, hunching back as he sat between her legs.

“Siebren!” Moira couldn’t help it: the fear returned immediately, replacing the pleased rush that had come over her, but she couldn’t reach forward quickly enough. Siebren shifted backwards, a hand resting on Moira’s ankle, and she watched in confusion as he inhaled sharply and groaned with exertion. Moira pulled her legs toward her, seeking to shield herself from the cooler air.

“Siebren--”

“You talk so much.” Siebren shifted to the side, his face partially hidden by shadows. Unprepared to reach toward him again, Moira waited as he carefully pulled himself back up the bed, finally resting a hand on her arm. “Moira? Moira, my darling.”

“What--” Moira pursed her lips, pressing back into the pillows. “Siebren, I don’t understand.”

“What?” Siebren propped himself up, glancing at the length of her body before looking at his own. “The--If you’d like me to, um, continue, I could use my fingers.”

Moira shook her head, the confusion clouding her thoughts. “Was it that terrible? You didn’t say--I mean, you didn’t tell me--”

“Moira.” Siebren sat up further, somehow  _ ashamed _ as he leaned on the bed. “Moira, I was simply trying to--I thought, really, you wouldn’t want...To avoid pregnancy. It was simpler.”

“Oh. Oh!” Moira blinked rapidly, glancing at the spot Siebren had recently vacated. This would make sense: without his contribution, the chances of her falling pregnant dipped significantly. She shook her head, feeling foolish. “You would...use your fingers?”

“It can be done.” Reaching up, Siebren ran a hand into her hair, turning her toward him again. “My previous experiences have not been entirely without merit. I am a man of learning.”

“I doubt any of your teachers in this department held a formal degree.” She replied dryly, edging closer to share his warmth again. He was right: she did talk too much.

“Perhaps I shall nominate you to be the first. We could write in to the university. Apply for a formal position.” Siebren leaned forward, kissing her hair. “Then I could attend each and every class.”

Moira shivered with delight. “I. That is. It was... _ nice _ .”

“Nice.”

“Yes. Nice.” Moira nodded, reaching out to trace his shoulder. “But I have much to learn. Like the...the  _ ending _ . What are we meant to do now?”

“Well, I should probably remove the sheet.” Siebren rubbed his forehead against the top of her head, pulling away to stand beside the bed. “You might want to bathe, while I...I do that, and dress for bed.”

Moira watched him move, all too aware of her own nakedness. She stood to mirror him, tip-toeing to the luggage to search for her own items, then stood to cover herself with her nightgown. Slowly, as if recovering herself, she was able to go through the motions of a nightly toilet: she managed to return to find Siebren similarly ready for bed, waiting for her.

Waiting for  _ her _ .

Moira crept forward, nearly blind in the darkness as she climbed into bed. Though the pleasant warmth of their love-making had worn off, Moira was surprised to find Siebren grabbing for her once again, crushing her to his chest as he pulled on the blankets.

“Siebren--” She gasped briefly, wriggling free to let herself breathe. “Siebren?”

“Sorry.” He hummed, adjusting their position to lay beside her. “I realized, though, this is...good practice.”

“Practice?”

“The bed in my apartment isn’t this large. We might as well learn how to use the space most effectively.” 

Despite herself, Moira laughed, gripping Siebren’s shirt as she curled against him. This entire trip had been unreal--separate from her old life, from the limitations of whatever she had been before. She hated admitting that anyone else was right, but Siebren...had been right. She had finally been able to see what she’d needed, and what she wanted.

That would make it so much easier to keep those things close to her from now on.

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Spring had come, refreshing the land in fits and spurts. Moira was surprised to find how much of it she appreciated, working now with Siebren. She could take him on walks over the hills and point out the sprigs of green, the changing patches of greenery over the wide expanses of wild land. He was so honest about his interest, so eager to learn more, and she had developed a talent for explaining things to him. He was almost childish in his enthusiasm, and it prompted in her a sympathetic impulse to enjoy the things she had not enjoyed before.

His enthusiasm for her was no less fervent, either. She had not asked him or questioned him, but when she’d walked into his living quarters and laid beside him in the cramped, tiny bed, Siebren did not refuse her. He cradled her, embraced her, and she now enjoyed the pleasure of waking up in his arms. She would wake early and prepare his coffee, and he would wake second and prepare their breakfast, and the clinic would open with a pleasing regularity. Yes, there were the occasional moments when a needy patient would bang on the door in the dead of night, but Moira kept her distance and let Siebren do his work. They were allowed their privacy, and for the first time in her life, Moira was learning how wonderful it was to have a place she truly appreciated. 

They had already found a rhythm in their work, her tending to the medicines while Siebren handled the surgeries and explanations. Moira would circle him, replacing items or freshening cloths as needed, and fade into the background when she was not needed. More often than not, however, Siebren would beckon her forward, pointing out a symptom or explaining a diagnosis based on items she’d studied in his medical textbooks. 

This morning seemed different, though. Moira had woken as usual, opening the clinic and cleaning the tools in Siebren’s array, but he had not moved to greet her. They had begun their work, Siebren stepping out to visit a patient while Moira took her inventory, but when Siebren had returned, he had only glanced at her for a moment before taking refuge in the surgery. Perhaps he had slept poorly; perhaps he was feeling unwell. Moira would not presume to understand. Still, if he was avoiding her, the thought stung, and she assuaged the ache with the reassuring arrangement of her medicine bottles. 

Perhaps someone had noticed. Perhaps someone, somehow, had commented to Siebren about his changed connection to Moira. Perhaps he was trying to protect her, somehow. Moira breathed deep, biting her lip as she thought, and rubbed at the center of her palm as she moved to the surgery door. It was darker, in the back, and yet Siebren stood over a book, studying the markings.

“Does this happen often? A doctor, like this, and a…” She would have said ‘nurse’, but she refused that title out of hand. Nurses wore prim white uniforms and worked in hospitals. She was...a housekeeper? She didn’t know. 

“Mm?” Siebren jumped, turning to look at her. “Oh. Oh, this? Well, most professors have an assistant for surgeries, yes. I would assume surgeons do. But this was a small practice, I don’t think I was  _ meant _ to have an assistant.”

‘Assistant’. Moira blinked, pleased by the word. “I suppose the wages show that. But I...someone like me, there would be that position in other places.”

“Yes.” Siebren’s expression grew grave, his cheek twitching as he seemed to grow more somber. “Moira, you are not thinking of leaving.”

“What? No!” Moira hurried to reassure him, rushing forward to reach for his vest. “Siebren, no. No, I love it here, I like working  _ here _ , with you.”

He twisted in her grip, skin flushing under the surgery light. “Okay. Okay, good, I--”

“Siebren, did I do something?” Moira released him slowly, trying to make sense of his reaction. “I know I was--I mean, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You, ah, you didn’t. I just.” Siebren nodded quickly, edging back. “Well.”

“I was just curious about, um, us. Because I enjoy working with you.”

“I need to--” Siebren exhaled, lifting both hands in front of him. “I should, ah, apologize, Moira, about this morning, I believe you may have witnessed something or, um, or  _ felt _ something which was not my intention, I did not intend to unnerve you, and I, ah…”

Well.

That hadn’t been what she was expecting.

“Siebren, you didn’t do anything this morning.”

“No, not intentionally, but--” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “You left so early. And it was only when you left that I realized that I’d. My, ah…” Siebren gestured to his waist, avoiding Moira’s eyes as he backed away. Moira blinked, perplexed by his explanation, then stepped forward in an advance. 

“What did you do?”

“You may have  _ felt _ a portion of me which I did not intend, and it was not meant to imply or  _ demand _ anything. It was...a mistake.” Siebren was fully flushed, his ears a pale pink, but he did not back down in the face of Moira’s movement. Moira closed her eyes, thinking back, and tried to remember what had happened that morning. Yes, she’d woken, and yes, Siebren had seemed to jerk away as she left the bed, but...was it because of--

Had he somehow been aroused, ready so early? And he hadn’t said anything?

Moira blinked rapidly, glancing at the door of the surgery before moving forward again. More slowly this time, she reached up to wrap her arms around Siebren’s neck, lifting her chest to press against his. “Siebren, if you’d come to full stand, you could just  _ tell _ me.”

“Moira, you--” Siebren cleared his throat, tensing to let her lean on him. “It was the  _ morning. _ ”

“Any opportunity to learn should be seized by the faithful student.” Moira hummed, pressing her face against the side of his neck. “I do enjoy learning in that way. Finding the things to make you sigh or gasp, to study the anatomy I am not privileged to share…”

“Consider it a blessing, Moira, as this section of ‘anatomy’ has not always been a friend.” Siebren shook his head, adjusting to place a hand on Moira’s hip. “I do not always have  _ control _ of it, you understand.”

“That is not a bad thing, in itself.”

“Yes, but--I didn’t think you would be, ah. It was poorly timed.”

“I have bled in your presence, Siebren, and my womanly weakness is no more ‘better timed’ than your foibles.” Moira smiled, pushing her hips forward to meet his. That he would let himself be so distraught over an unspoken assumption...she leaned back to study him, muscles tightening at her core as she studied the face she had watched for so long. “I like studying you. You make a fascinating topic.”

Siebren met her eyes, his attention developing a deeper intensity as he thought. “You are a  _ tease _ , Moira O’Deorain.”

Moira nodded in confirmation, refusing to remove her hips from his. “I suppose I am merely the assistant. If you had a task for me, Doctor, it would be my job to assist.”

“ _ Moira _ .”

She grinned widely, tugging on him to urge him forward. “You must have considered it. The two of us, all alone in this clinic, with plenty of dark, tight corners…”

She was surprised to feel him push forward, his pelvis meeting hers through their clothing. After her teasing, Moira was surprised to find her bravado fading, a thread of worry returning. Yes, she’d ‘seduced’ Siebren before--but not in this way. This was not his usual method. How he could be so tentative normally, and yet so ready to lead the way for her, she couldn’t understand it. He had been worried, this morning, about offending her? About worrying her? She hardly had the skill to recognize his arousal, much less assist him properly! Frustrated by her own limitations, Moira let her hands fall to his chest, finding the firmness of muscle beneath his vest and shirtfront before grasping at his trousers. It could not be so complicated, could it? Particularly if he was so ready in the morning…

Perhaps it was truly for her own amusement. But she could feel him pushing forward with her, his movement trying to tuck her beneath his chin, and Moira smiled to feel each tiny adjustment. As he pushed her back to the edge of the table behind her, Moira tugged at his waistband, humming with a new enthusiasm. True, she slept beside him most nights, but to have his attention? Oh, that was a true delight.

“Are you still concerned about your anatomy, Doctor? I am more than willing to help.”

“ _ Moira _ .”

“I  _ want _ to be here, Siebren. I may not be skilled, but I hope my enthusiasm is adequate compensation.”

“Why do you do that.” He mused quietly, his hands resting on her waist as he pressed a leg between hers. “You always...qualify, too much.”

“Then tell me something different.” Moira lifted herself up, sitting atop the table at last to pull him closer. Her skirts dangled between her legs, but she could find now the places to pull up, to adjust her petticoats, and she felt the blood rushing to her cheeks as she lifted her hands and felt the inside of her thighs. It was easier with him, to feel his body moving forward to shield her, and she reached out a hand to cup the seam of his trousers. She had not been merely complimentary: it was odd to feel a weight there, a gentle mass so totally absent from her own groin. Siebren groaned softly, and she looked up to study his face, the concentration and intensity he’d developed over the past few moments.

“Siebren?”

“You’re  _ incredible _ .” He breathed, lowering his head to kiss beside her ear. The heat of his breath made her gasp, but he did not move away, rolling his hips gently into her hand. She worked to unclasp the button of his trousers, unable to stifle her soft whine as she managed to slip a hand into his undergarments and find the length of his cock. 

“I love waking up to smell you. To taste you.” He followed his words with his lips, kissing the side of her jaw. “You are the most brilliant, most skilled, most perfect person in this entire county, and you feel like--like velvet. Like fire and starlight and home.” He groaned again more intently, pushing forward against her hands to expose himself from his trousers and wade into the folds of her skirts. Moira lifted herself partially, lips parting in a silent gasp, but she reached for Siebren’s hand to guide him between her legs. 

“I want you, Siebren.”

She could feel his teeth as he hissed in a breath, his lips pressed against her neck. “You’re so  _ beautiful _ .”

It was so contrived, she thought. So average. And yet the words, from him, made her shudder anew, and she pulled at him more intently as he parted her skirts and pressed closer. It was as he stroked himself, his hands fumbling somewhat beneath her skirts, that Moira leaned back to watch in interest, realizing belatedly how their new position had changed things. There was less pressure against, no weight pressing into her, but his heat was still so close. So each to reach out and  _ touch _ . She grasped at him, whining again to draw him closer. “Siebren!”

“Patience, my darling.” He murmured to her, grunting as he adjusted his position. “My earlier enthusiasm is not as easy to summon as you might assume.”

“Really?” Blinking away her haze, Moira placed a hand behind her to support herself. “Your troublesome bedfellow is, um...difficult to wake?”

“It can depend.” Siebren nuzzled against her neck, placing a hand on the table beside her. “It has been so long, you see, with a partner to explain, that I...well. It takes time, just as you do.”

“Yes, but I…” Moira mused to herself, lowering a hand between them to trace the skin of her legs. There was his cock, just stiffening with interest, and she had to adjust herself to find the damp warmth of her cleft. She stroked herself idly, shuddering again, and pushed forward to kiss his cheek. “Explain.”

“There are stages. An errant thought is truly enough the path to full distraction.” Siebren whined to her, moving his free hand to her abdomen, then to her thigh. “The swish of a skirt. The light in your hair. The scent of your skin.”

“And then?”

“To imagine your softness--or to taste it truly. The head begins to spin. It can linger, at times, at half-attention.” Siebren pursed his lips, pulling back to stand straight. “That poses even greater distraction, perhaps.”

“And this morning?” Moira urged, spreading her legs wider to let him grasp her hips. “You said you were ready.”

“Yes, well, my bedfellow may have been eager, but my brain was slow to follow.” Siebren shook his head, shivering as he ground against her gently. “It’s usually the case, in fact. One tends to be more enthusiastic than the other.”

“And so now, when you  _ are _ properly prepared…”

“It takes time.” Siebren looked up to meet her eyes, adjusting his hips against hers. “Though I still have much to learn about  _ you _ .”

“Siebren--”

“Are you ready?” He asked softly, sliding his hand forward. Moira hesitated, then nodded quickly, shifting her hips forward.

“Please.”

“So polite.” He smiled, leveraging himself forward, and Moira tensed and gritted her teeth as he slowly, carefully entered her, the pressure within her making her whimper with surprise. “Moi--”

“It’s okay.” She interrupted, reaching up to grab at his shirt. It was different with their clothing, but not  _ bad _ \--almost comfortable. The pressure kept her grounded, even without his weight around her. Siebren had to lift himself to meet her, rising to finish the movement, and when he withdrew to begin again, Moira groaned with base disappointment. 

“You are so--” Siebren grabbed at her, pulling her close to hide against her again. “Soft. It’s perfect, soft and warm and--”

“You’re good at applying pressure, Siebren.” Moira shifted closer, pushing forward against him again. “Apply pressure.” 

She could feel him laughing against her, his chest pressed to hers, and she grinned as he thrust into her. She was being truthful: when she’d first explored her own budding sexuality, the pressure of a hand between her legs could sometimes be enough to stimulate her. With her legs spread and her skirts rumpled, she had come a long way from those early attempts, but Siebren attended well and adjusted his angle to thrust into and against her, grinding their bodies together. 

Always there was this temptation to arc back, to splay herself out for him, but yet she wanted to keep so close. Her entire body was a vise of tension, the piercing heat of his erection scorching her through, and she reached up to grab at him, to roll her hips against him. “It, ah. It isn’t so difficult. With you.”

“Moira.” He hummed with pleasure, the sound twisting in him as he lifted into each thrust. “It is like a  _ mystery _ , sometimes, or a discovery, to find what you are doing or feeling, and then I can uncover you and there you are.”

“The uncovering is part of the experience.” Moira nodded eagerly, trilling as he rolled his hips. “The longer you take, Siebren, the more desperate I become. And I have not had much practice. I can become quite desperate.”

“Now I have a predicament, Moira.” Siebren grabbed at her waist, clasping her to him as he pressed his lips again to her temple. “Because I would like to see you in your desperation. And yet my stamina is not what it once was.”

“You are a young man, Siebren.” Moira soothed, purring as she wrapped her legs tighter. “Young. And strong. And fit.”

Instead of words, Siebren whined his appreciation, fingers digging into her buttocks as he tried to grip her tighter. His hips stuttered, taking on a rhythm of their own as he thrust harder into her. Moira matched his intensity with her own, her legs constricting around him to bury him in skirts. Moira smiled easily, riding the pulse as he pushed them both against the table, and let a rising gasp escape her as he persisted. She was his, a creature tied to him now, his body taking hers--

And yet as the first jolt shuddered through her, she realized that he was  _ hers _ . Her legs were holding him to her, her lips were pressed to his neck,  _ her _ . Moira pushed back against him, climbing the ascent to a silent, trembling orgasm, and felt her world collapse as her nerves exploded. He was in her, strong and needy and warm, and even as she rode his thrusts, she could feel the grip in his hands and fingers. 

“ _ Moira.” _ His only words now were her name,  _ her _ name, whispered into her hair as he lost himself to the rush. She could feel his desperation, feel it even as her own faded into a pleasant ache, and she moaned softly to feel him tremble. 

“Yes, Siebren.  _ Yes _ , you are there, Siebren--” She didn’t want to stop herself, to limit her voice, and the hunger in his kisses spurred her on. “ _ Siebren _ , Siebren, please, you can do it for me.”

He nearly pushed her down to the table, his head crashing down against her shoulder, and Moira braced herself as his hips thrust into her. He held himself against the table, legs trembling as he cried out once, and Moira bit her lip as their bodies echoed their mutual trembling. Her heart beat loudly in her ears, and she could feel her pulse in her lip as coherent thought slowly returned. They were tangled, well and truly, and Moira reached up to cling to Siebren’s shoulders as he took deep heaving breaths. She could not deceive him: he was strong. And handsome. Had she mentioned handsome? She couldn’t remember.

“Siebren--” She began, turning to kiss his cheek, but a sound from the other room made them both start in surprise. Moira grit her teeth as Siebren withdrew, her skirts easily covering her nakedness, and the commotion of moving down off the table prevented her from seeing Siebren’s work in restoring his trousers to normality. Though attempting to put forth her best calm demeanor, Moira felt her head spin, her cheeks flushed as she moved to the surgery door.

“Doctor! Doctor Kuiper, where--” Outside, a figure was struggling with the clinic door, and Moira thanked whatever gods she had that the knob was still not fixed. She couldn’t be sure how long Siebren would need--had they disturbed anything? Would anyone in the surgery be able to realise what had happened? Gods, was there anything on  _ her _ that would make it obvious? Moira gripped her skirts tightly, smoothing back her hair and rubbing her cheeks in two quick movements before striding quickly to the door. If someone needed help, they deserved proper attention. Never mind what the doctor and his assistant were up to.

She only hoped that the visitor at the door would be quick. She had other matters to discuss with the ever-popular physician.


End file.
